


deeper than any grave

by altschmerzes



Category: Charlie's Angels (Movies)
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, Cuddling & Snuggling, Friendship, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Sharing a Bed, post first film
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 10:10:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7753615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altschmerzes/pseuds/altschmerzes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Knox is dead and the debrief is complete, Alex finds herself at a loss for where to go, given her current place of residence has been shot to hell by machine guns until it collapsed. </p>
<p>ft. Natalie's unique brand of optimism, what is essentially a glorified sleepover, and the calm reassurance that the people you love actually are okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	deeper than any grave

**Author's Note:**

> For my H/C Bingo square 'loss of home/shelter'

 

 

> LIBRA: Your love will always be rooted deeper than any grave. - musterni, Shitty Horoscopes Anthology, book xii: obituaries

Everyone is still alive, which has got to be some kind of miracle.

The first couple hours after the dust settles is spent celebrating this, fruity alcohol on a beach with the sun shining down on them like some kind of congratulations from the universe, _you’ve earned this_. Coconuts on sun chairs turns into chasing each other around in the waves, and it’s only after they are left standing in the sand, ocean water dripping from hair and the sun setting behind them, that Alex feels the day catch up to her.

It’s as if every injured part of her body decides to make itself known at once, strained muscles in her leg crying out for attention, her wrist and jaw send out simultaneous pulses of pain that almost send her staggering. Looking around, Alex notices that her companions are in similar states. There’s a bit of blood dripping down Natalie’s back from a cut that’s reopened on her shoulder and some bruising beginning to color in over her ribs, Dylan is limping, and they both look as tired as Alex herself feels.

After the several minutes it takes to convince Bosley that they’ll be alright, Alex eases herself into the backseat, content to let Dylan, as the least injured of the three of them, drive. Natalie leans over the seat and smiles back at her.

“I don’t know about the two of you,” she says, looking from Alex to Dylan, “but I am absolutely beat. Ready to head home?”

At the question, Alex groans, dropping her head to the headrest behind her. “Shit. _Shit.”_

“What?” asks Dylan, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror for a second. “Is everything okay?” She sounds more panicked than she usually does quicker than she usually gets, and Alex files that information away for later. Natalie notices too, if the frown that flickers quickly across her face is anything to go by.

“Jason’s trailer,” Alex says, feeling a headache beginning to build behind her temples. “It got all shot to hell when Knox’s guys tried to kill us, He texted me while we were on the beach, he’s staying with a friend. I was so looking forward to going home and taking a shower and sleeping for the next eight years, and now I gotta figure out what to do.”

“Oh well that’s easy.” The note of _duh_ in Natalie’s voice isn’t anything approaching subtle. “You’re coming with me, obviously.” She turns and points a finger at Dylan. “You too, okay? We can make a night of it. Watch a movie, make some popcorn. It’ll be fun!” Alex nods, some of the tension bleeding out of her shoulders. A night in with her two favorite people, who were both still in one piece, well, there are worse things she can think of.

Natalie claims the first shower then disappears into the kitchen. Alex would just as soon have ordered takeout, but Natalie waves the suggestion off, arguing that cooking calms her nerves. Alex’s hair is still damp when she enters the kitchen herself, first aid kit in hand. The cut on the back of Natalie’s shoulder is visible from where Alex stands in the doorway, the blonde’s black tank-top strap not covering it up. The kitchen smells like grilled cheese and the strong mint scent of the Icy Hot Alex has liberally applied to her own injuries.

As she watches, Natalie shifts, the cut re-opening, a small trail of blood tracking down into the fabric of the shirt, and Alex sighs. She sets the first aid kit down on the table and clears her throat.

“You should let me fix your shoulder,” she says when Natalie turns around.

“Fine,” Natalie agrees, turning back to her cooking project, “but do it over here, I don’t want to burn the sandwiches.”

Shaking her head fondly, Alex opens up the first aid kit and rifles through it. Butterfly closures should do the job, though she would have liked to corral the other two into an emergency room. The distant echo of the shower door swinging shut several rooms away as she smooths the first of the butterfly bandages onto the back of Natalie’s shoulder reminds Alex of exactly why that didn’t happen. Her hands still for a second, long enough for Natalie to pick up on it.

“What’s up?” she asks, still stirring the tomato soup in the pan on the stove.

“Worried about our girl,” Alex answers, knowing better than to lie to her. The fourth and final butterfly closure goes on easily, and she stands back to admire her handiwork. “She’s taking this whole Knox was the bad guy all along thing pretty hard.”

“She’ll be fine. A good sleepover can fix anything.” The optimism in Natalie’s voice is enough to make Alex open her mouth to speak again, hesitation rising in her, when Natalie switches the burners off and turns to look at her. “Hey. She’ll be fine. We’ve got her back, Alex. It’s always hardest on her when a mission goes bad, but we’ve always been able to pull her through. I know this was personal, but I don’t see why we can’t pull her through this time.”

Nodding, Alex studies Natalie, grateful for her faith in their ability to keep Dylan from spiraling too far into the darkness seeping in at the edges. They’ve always balanced each other out, Natalie and Dylan have, sunshine and shadow in equal measure, with Alex in the middle, tilting one way or the other depending on how the wind blows. This time she can’t help but lean Dylan’s way, unsure how well they’ll pull out the other side of this with how close they came to losing something unthinkable, but the determination in Natalie’s eyes does a lot to convince Alex she might be wrong.

For once in her life, Alex thinks she would welcome being wrong.

Dylan comes in a few moments later, scrubbing a towel across her hair and still favoring her left leg. The three of them eat in near-silence, finding themselves to be ravenous after forgoing meals for hunting down Knox and his crew. The washing up is unanimously decided to be a task left for tomorrow, Alex, Dylan, and Natalie all piling onto Natalie’s bed to watch a rerun of some Lifetime movie playing on television.

With the curtains drawn and the lights out, the glow from the TV screen casting sickly halogen shadows across the bedspread, Natalie’s room feels like some kind of bubble, shielded from the rest of the world, at least for now. Alex knows this isn’t really the case, that the world is still there regardless of an illusion provided by nighttime and what Dylan once referred to as ‘post mission hangover’, but it’s nice to pretend. She lays on Natalie’s left, fluffy comforter pulled up high to her shoulders, and a shock of red is just barely visible past Natalie’s face, Dylan’s hair splayed out on a pillow. Natalie falls asleep quickly, within the first twenty minutes of the movie. Alex notices this and snorts softly, meeting Dylan’s eyes over Natalie’s slack face. They exchange knowing smiles, both flashing back to different times over the years that Natalie has fallen easily asleep in the most unlikely of circumstances.

A few moments pass, Natalie’s easy, steady breathing a background to whatever drama is playing out on the screen, and then Alex is pulled back to their conversation in the kitchen, her own admission of concern for the other member of their trio.

“How’re you holding up?” she asks on uncurbable instinct, words floating through the still air easily despite their low volume. Alex watches Dylan’s face, the odd expression that slides over it. She’s sitting up partially, chin propped on her hand, looking at Dylan over the top of Natalie’s sleeping form and trying to place the look on her face. From the appearance of it, Alex would almost call it some kind of peace.

“I’m doing okay,” Dylan says after a few long seconds of contemplation. Meeting Alex’s eyes, she smiles. “I mean it. I really am okay.”

It doesn’t seem like bravado, like something you tell yourself in the hopes of making it true by the power of willful thinking. It seems open, honest, and a little surprised, as if Dylan herself can hardly believe it. Alex can remember seeing the same look on her face earlier at the beach, when she’d turned around from seeing something the other two couldn’t make out when they’d looked. Something about it makes Alex believe her.

“Okay,” Alex whispers, sinking back down into the ungodly soft mattress of the bed.

It’s impulse that has her turning on her side, reaching out over Natalie to grasp Dylan’s hand. Dylan turns her palm up, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tightly. With a deep sigh, Alex closes her eyes, resting her forehead against the crest of Natalie’s shoulder. After the kind of day she’s had, the kind of close calls they’ve all barely made it out of, it’s a privilege Alex doesn’t take lightly. The ability to just reach out and touch them.

Everyone is still alive, which has got to be some kind of blessing.


End file.
